


Someone Just For Me

by stardropdream



Series: Let Me Be With You [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chobits, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Backstory, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Shiro/Kuron, Past Relationship(s), Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 10:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: There’s the whisper of the Other Shiro in the back of Shiro's mind—But is he the someone just for you?The other him has been asking that more and more lately. Shiro still doesn’t know how to respond to the question. He can sense that answering it will mean that somethingchanges.The other him feels almost desperate sometimes and Shiro doesn’t know how to reassure him.Keith has a realization, Shiro discovers his wish, and the other Shiro awakens fully and with a purpose. And nothing's going to be the same after that.





	Someone Just For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raitoningu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raitoningu/gifts).

> Fic request from [Sa](https://twitter.com/LStrikesArt) with more Chobits AU! 
> 
> You'll need to have read the previous installments for this one to make sense, I believe.
> 
> I was so nervous and excited to share this one, and so the neurotic in me jumped out. Thank you to the following people who read through this and offered your wonderful feedback: [Amanda](https://twitter.com/SundaySEternal), [Cy](https://twitter.com/cyborgtopus), [Heather](https://twitter.com/hchanooo), and [Ils](https://twitter.com/justsayins).
> 
> Also, if you haven't seen the art for Chobits AU Sa's created, [be sure to check it out.](https://twitter.com/LStrikesArt/status/1141808157527687173)

Keith picks up three square stacks of plastic-wrapped paper and juggles them, catching each one before they can all go tumbling to the floor— usually these antics make Shiro laugh or at least look impressed. Once, he actually clapped for Keith. And while Keith’s no juggler, he manages to keep the paper stacks flying between his hands for about five seconds, which is his new juggling record. He stops only when one pack slips from his grasp and hits the floor with a thud.

Laughing as he scoops the wayward stack up, Keith asks Shiro, “Think these’ll last us more than a day?” 

The paper’s a familiar weight in his hands at this point. This is his and Shiro’s second trip to the craft store this week to buy more origami paper for Shiro’s crane-folding project. Shiro’s been going through the paper rapidly. 

Keith knows Shiro’s preferred kind of origami paper. This brand has his favorite color combinations. It also has a variety of foiled paper sparkling gold and patterned paper like cherry blossoms and cranes. 

But Shiro doesn’t respond to Keith’s words— no laugh, no amusement, nothing said at all. 

Keith turns to look at Shiro, prepared to reassure him that he was only joking, but Shiro’s attention is elsewhere. He’s watching a couple leave the craft store together, their fingers interlaced as they hold hands. 

Keith watches Shiro study them, the way his eyes trace the clasp of their hands, the way one laughs up at the other before the sliding doors snick shut behind them. 

Keith hesitates. He holds the paper tight to his chest. Shiro’s expression is distant, his eyes thoughtful and his mouth a thin line. If anyone else were to glance at Shiro, they wouldn’t even give his expression a passing thought. Just a persocom idling. 

But worry turns sour in Keith’s gut. 

Shiro’s been spacing out more and more lately, sometimes for full minutes at a time. Sometimes he disappears so far inside himself, Keith isn’t sure what can draw him back out again. Most of the time, whenever Shiro is sitting quietly, he looks too lost in thought to even notice Keith there beside him. 

It’s always eerie. Shiro sits, completely still— no breathing, no blinking— his lips slightly parted, as if he’s about to speak but hasn’t found those words yet. 

He knows what Pidge would say: run a diagnostic and clean up his hard drive if he’s running slow. 

He knows what Hunk would say: don’t worry about it so much. Shiro will say something if something’s wrong with him. 

He knows what anyone else would say: Shiro isn’t _thinking_. Not truly. He’s processing the deluge of data in his programming, maybe running backup systems that Keith can’t comprehend. But most people would agree that it’s not true thinking. 

Keith is no tech expert. He’s no philosopher. He can’t get into any reasonable, polished debate about personhood. He only knows what he feels, only knows what’s true. Shiro is real, or at the very least real to him. He can’t ever deny that. 

Keith watches the soft look in Shiro’s eyes, still lingering on the doors long after the couple’s disappeared through them. The world around them continues— the whisper of rain outside the sliding doors, the chill of the air inside the store. Customers walk down aisles with soft taps of their footsteps. Keith can hear distant murmuring. It’s all mundane. 

Something squirms in Keith’s stomach as he watches Shiro, studying the shape of his eyes, the gentle line of his mouth. Shiro is so still. 

_Longing_, Keith thinks. That same twisting, coiling feeling in his gut returns, leaving Keith feeling uncentered, yearning to reach out and reassure Shiro, to say something to coax a smile from Shiro’s lips.

Keith sucks in a sharp breath, steeling himself. He stops hesitating and reaches out to take Shiro’s hand. That seems to jar Shiro from his thoughts: Keith watches Shiro as he blinks a couple times. 

“Shii…” He blinks one last time and then turns his head. He finds Keith’s eyes effortlessly before he glances down at their joined hands. “Keith.” 

Keith loves the way Shiro says his name— like every time he does, he can’t believe he gets to. Like there’s simple joy just in saying his name, just in being near him. He often just says his name for the sake of saying it and it always makes Keith feel warm all over.

Like now. It’s a chilly day but he feels flushed. He squashes the worry down into a low simmer inside his chest and smiles up at Shiro. 

In a quiet murmur, he answers: “Shiro.” 

It isn’t the first time they’ve held hands, either, not by a long shot. They tend to limit it to home, but sometimes Keith thinks that Shiro’s reaching out to him on the street in hopes of holding his hand. 

He gives Shiro’s a gentle squeeze now, palm to palm. It feels normal. It’s always felt nice. 

“Are you alright?” Keith asks him gently. He traces his eyes over Shiro’s face, searching for any signs of distress. 

Keith doesn’t know how to express his worry. Not really. He was never good at it, too used to worrying only about himself before he found Shiro. He can’t mark the time when it changed— when Keith stopped thinking only of himself and started to think of Shiro first. 

When Shiro gets lost in his thoughts like this, Keith can’t help the anxiety that swirls inside him— some sort of instinctual worry that if he doesn’t hold onto Shiro tight, he might lose him forever. That Shiro might go somewhere and Keith won’t be able to get him back again. 

Keith can’t recall when the idea of losing Shiro became unbearable to him. 

“Keith,” Shiro answers, “I’m okay.”

And then he smiles at Keith, something quiet and fragile— but heartfelt. His eyes turn tender, his mouth sweet. His eyelashes dip as he glances down, his smile softening further as he studies their joined hands. Keith swallows thickly when Shiro shifts his hand, threading their fingers together so they’re interlaced. 

“Should we head home?” Keith asks. Shiro nods. 

They pay the craft store cashier for the origami paper. The girl working today flips through a magazine, chewing gum, and casts one glancing blow at their clasped hands once they join her at the counter. She doesn’t say anything, but her mouth thins just a little as she accepts Keith’s money. 

Keith’s used to that, too. It doesn’t matter to him. He’s never really cared what other people think— and all the more so when it comes to making Shiro happy. That much hasn’t changed. 

At the very least, it’s nice to have company on the outside of people’s acceptance. 

It’s raining today, so before they exit the store, Keith snatches up their umbrella from the holder by the door. He pops it open and holds it over Shiro with a smile. There’s the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the umbrella, flooding the world with white noise. It feels like its own world, tucked beneath the umbrella with Shiro, just the two of them on a rainy city street. 

“Stay close to me, okay?” he says, just as he said before they left the apartment. “Don’t get wet.” 

Shiro nods and scoots closer to Keith. He still doesn’t say much. He doesn’t seem lost inside himself this time, thankfully, but it’s clear that he’s thinking about something. 

Their walk home to the apartment is a slow journey even if it’s only a few blocks away. Shiro’s mindful never to leave the protective circle of the umbrella, but it makes for awkward shuffling as they walk pressed so close together, holding hands. 

“Ah, fuck,” Keith gasps when he nearly trips over a sidewalk grate, saved from falling flat on his face by Shiro’s quick hold on him, tugging him upright.

“Shii…” 

“I’m okay,” Keith assures him. He lets Shiro fuss, running his hands carefully over Keith’s shoulders and chest, as if he really did fall and he’s trying to brush him off. Once he’s satisfied, Shiro takes Keith’s hand again. 

Keith smiles to himself, ducking his head, and tangles their fingers together again. It’s worth it for Shiro’s delighted little _Shii!_, murmured softly to himself. Warmth blooms inside his chest, unfurling like a flower. He glances up at Shiro, who watches the rain fall off the lip of the umbrella with undisguised curiosity and wonder. 

Keith doesn’t have words for the feeling inside him— how happy he feels when he’s with Shiro, how good it feels to hold his hand, how every day is better when he gets to wake up and Shiro is there beside him. He knows they’re friends and he’s grateful for Shiro. But it feels different from friendship with, say, Hunk or Pidge. 

“It’ll rain tomorrow, too,” Shiro tells him as they reach their apartment building. 

Keith squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. “Good thing we have the day off, huh? We can just stay at home.” 

Shiro nods. It’s easy. It’s always easy with Shiro. The idea of spending every day, all day, with one person would normally give Keith hives. But it’s always perfect with Shiro. 

They settle into the evening, umbrella tucked in the corner by the door to drip dry, the window cracked so they can listen to the evening rain, and the paper spread out, separated by color, on the table. 

Keith startles when he feels a blanket drape around his shoulders. He must have nodded off. “Oh—” 

“It’s cold tonight,” Shiro tells him, making sure the blanket won’t fall off Keith’s shoulders before he returns to his spot at the table, smiling pleasantly over at Keith. “I don’t want you to get a cold.” 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, tugging the blanket around him and cuddling in close. There is a chill in the air tonight, but Keith’s cheeks feel overwarm. “Thanks, Shiro.” 

Shiro nods and resumes working on his crane. 

Their apartment is a riot of colorful birds. Keith started hanging the cranes for Shiro a couple weeks ago, each one on its own little string taped to the support beams on the ceiling. Their ceiling is a migration of birds in flight and Keith can mark Shiro’s growing skill and progression in the formation of their wings. Keith finds the earlier works endearing in all their wonky and lopsided edges. 

The ones Shiro’s making tonight are near perfect, all crisp lines and aligned folds. But each one is Shiro’s hard work, with Keith’s assistance, and Keith appreciates that he can look up in their apartment and see evidence of Shiro’s presence. 

They’ve been by each other’s sides now for so long now. 

“This one’s finished,” Shiro announces a short while later. 

_Oh,_ Keith thinks as Shiro cups his hand beneath Keith’s. With Keith’s hand curved like a bowl, Shiro places his completed crane gently against his palm. This crane’s a crisp apple red and Shiro’s smile is sweet as he looks at Keith, waiting for approval. 

Keith knows he’d do anything if it meant Shiro would smile at him like that. And then the thought strikes through Keith, sudden and certain. Once he thinks it, Keith has to marvel that it’s taken him so long to realize in the first place: 

_I love him._

-

Shiro needs only four hours of activated power-saving mode in order to recharge his battery. Keith, by contrast, sleeps for nearly twice as long. Shiro’s calculated: Keith averages seven to eight hours of sleep if he’s uninterrupted by his alarm for work. On the days he works, he sleeps an average of five hours. 

The rain still pours outside. Shiro can hear it as it taps at the window, blanketing the neighborhood in a quiet hush. Shiro doesn’t expect he’ll see as many dogs and cats from the window today. 

Shiro carefully unplugs the charger from his ear and lets the cord retreat into his port before he snaps his ear shut again. He sits in the chair next to Keith’s bed as Keith sprawls out like a starfish, snoring softly. Shiro likes that Keith snores. It’s an odd human quality, but he thinks it’s nice. 

Everything about Keith is nice, really. 

There’s the whisper of the other him in the back of his mind as he thinks it— _But is he the someone just for you?_

The other him has been asking that more and more lately. Shiro still doesn’t know how to respond to the question. He can sense that answering it will mean that something _changes._ The other him feels almost desperate sometimes and Shiro doesn’t know how to reassure him. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of appliances. The heating system pours air into the room, leaving the cranes above to waver on their strings, hitting together in soft, muted sounds. Some of them will get twisted around and knotted up because of it. In the morning, Keith will stand on a chair and untangle them for Shiro because he knows it’ll make Shiro happy. 

Shiro smiles to himself at the thought. 

_Keith_ makes him happy. 

Keith, who’s sleeping right now, snoring away. He snuffles a little, kicking his feet out from under the covers and knocking them loose. Shiro watches as he settles. Keith doesn’t turn the heat up as high as he should in an effort to save money and when he’s only half-covered in his blanket, goosebumps pimple his arms. 

Shiro stands and pulls the blankets up again, covering Keith up to his chin. His hands linger, touching Keith’s shoulders as he watches him. Keith lets loose a sleepy murmur but otherwise doesn’t respond to Shiro’s touch. 

Eventually, the sun rises behind the clouds, flooding the apartment with a dull morning grey. The birds outside start chirping despite the rain and gloom. Shiro waits, knowing that enough time has passed and Keith will wake soon. 

When he does, Keith first shifts, huddling beneath his blankets and turning onto his side. When he cracks his eye open, he looks for Shiro. Keith’s face twists up, muffling a smile, and Shiro can’t help but smile back as Keith turns his head and buries his face back into his pillow with a small huff.

“How long have you been staring at me this time?” Keith asks, voice cottony through the pillow. 

“Three hours and twenty-five minutes, Keith,” Shiro answers, fighting to keep his smile from widening. 

“Hmph.” Keith props himself up onto his elbows to look at Shiro again. “You know you can do things while I’m sleeping as long as it’s quiet, right?” 

Shiro tilts his head. “I like listening to you snore.” 

Keith slips on his elbow and smushes his face into his pillow. Shiro watches his ears turn red from a blush. 

“That’s creepy, Shiro,” Keith teases. He laughs, voice soft, and Shiro knows he’s not actually angry. When Keith peeks his face up from the pillow, his mouth hints a smile. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Keith huffs, dismissing the apology. “Don’t be. You’re cute.” 

Shiro beams at the praise, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. Keith laughs again, blushing at Shiro’s response. It’s just as well: Shiro’s not trying to hide it. Keith praising him makes him happy— 

_Keith_ makes him happy. 

“You should sleep for another thirty-five minutes to be fully well-rested, Keith,” Shiro tells him, cheerfully. 

Keith laughs again, rolling onto his back and scooting across his mattress, leaving a large empty space. He pats it with his hand, his eyes soft. 

“Come here,” Keith says. “It’s cold and you’re like a furnace.” 

“Shii…” 

Shiro stands and goes to him. Early on, Shiro remembers crawling into Keith’s bed and spooning him while he slept, any time he noticed him shivering through the night. Usually, it meant Keith would wake up startled. Or trapped, if Shiro was in the middle of his sleep mode, too heavy for Keith to move properly. 

Now, though, he’s welcomed into Keith’s bed. He settles beside Keith, the mattress still warm from his sleeping body. Shiro stretches and lies on his back. Keith makes a sound, looking shy, before he tentatively scoots closer and tucks himself up against Shiro’s side, seeking the warmth of his processors. Shiro curls his arm around him once he’s close enough, tugging him in. 

“Not sure I’m going to actually fall asleep, especially if only for twenty minutes,” Keith admits, cheek pillowed against Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro tightens his hold on Keith, pulling him in closer. Keith lets out a light breath, almost wheezing, and so Shiro loosens his hold. He feels Keith relax against him, his body a warm line against his. He can feel Keith’s heart beating in his chest, pressed up to Shiro’s side. He’s always found the sensation of a human heartbeat to be strangely comforting. 

Shiro watches Keith slowly go boneless against him, eyes half-lidded. He indeed doesn’t fall back asleep, but seems content to keep cuddling up to Shiro, his arm slung around Shiro’s waist. 

“… You’re the cute one, Keith,” Shiro declares. 

Keith tilts his head, looking up at him. He frowns thoughtfully, cheeks pink, and twists around to lie on his stomach, propping his chin on Shiro’s chest and peering up at him. Keith’s chest is half on Shiro’s and Shiro can feel the way Keith’s heart has sped up in his chest, pumping quickly. 

There’s so much that Shiro likes about Keith. He’s thoughtful and kind. He found Shiro. He listens to Shiro and wants him to be happy. He smiles up at him like this, blushing because Shiro called him cute. Without fail, Keith always hangs Shiro’s cranes for him and buys him more paper. 

_But can he feel the same way about you, too?_ the other him whispers. Shiro tries not to listen, to stay in the moment and just focus on Keith instead. 

Keith doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just looking up at Shiro, his expression open and gentle, his cheeks pink. 

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith finally says, and sounds hushed. He stretches a little, ducking his head. That means his face presses into Shiro’s shirt, burying against his chest. His hair is a silky mess at the nape of his neck. 

Tentatively, Shiro lifts his hand and touches the back of Keith’s head, stroking his hand down and smoothing his hair. He settles his hand on the back of Keith’s neck when he feels him shiver— and pulls him in closer, to help warm him up. 

“Shiro, I…” Keith starts, and then stops again. Shiro waits, holding Keith tight, and waits for him to speak. But Keith says nothing more. He only sighs and snuggles closer, curling his arms around Shiro in turn and hugging him.

Shiro loves that part. “Shii…!” 

He hugs Keith tighter, pulling him fully onto his body and engulfing him in his arms. He beams happily when Keith gives a little squawk of surprise and then squirms closer to him, looping his arms around Shiro’s neck and hugging him back. Shiro loves hugging Keith. 

Keith lets out a throaty chuckle, face pressed against Shiro’s neck. “You’re cuddly today.” 

“I always like holding you, Keith,” Shiro answers. 

Keith gives a little cough and Shiro can feel the heat radiating off his face where it’s pressed into his neck. He thinks he feels Keith’s smile. 

“Yeah, Shiro. Me too.” 

Keith goes still and quiet after that, enough so that Shiro thinks he might have gone back to sleep after all. Shiro holds him and listens to his breathing, to the ghosting sensation of his warm breath against his neck. 

“Hey, Shiro?” 

Not asleep then. Shiro tilts his chin down, his nose brushing into the soft hair on top of Keith’s head. “Yes?” 

“If something was bothering you, you’d tell me, right?” 

Shiro’s silent for a moment, processing the words. He heard from Hunk once that persocoms aren’t supposed to be able to lie unless they’re specifically programed to, and he doesn’t want to lie to Keith. Unsure what to say, he goes quiet and still. Long enough, it seems, for Keith to grow concerned. 

He pulls back from Shiro’s neck to look up at him, something quiet and vulnerable in his eyes. 

“Why do you ask?” Shiro asks instead.

Keith’s brow furrows. He ducks his head, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug before he breathes out, sagging forward. Shiro wants to tug him down and keep holding him, but he leaves his hold loose so Keith can do what he wants to do. 

“Lately,” Keith says, voice neutral and words careful, which only means he’s more worried than he’s letting on, “you’ve been… it looks like you’ve had something on your mind. I’m worried.” 

Shiro sits up and brings Keith with him. Keith shifts a little and they end up both sitting on the bed, facing one another. Shiro unfolds his legs to make space for Keith. He doesn’t want to let go, but gently pulls his hands away, letting them rest on Keith’s shoulders instead. 

They look at each other, silently. 

“I’m sorry to worry you,” Shiro finally says, looking at his hands on Keith’s shoulders. Keith is so strong, always, and always looks out for him. Shiro’s hands feel big on Keith’s shoulders. 

Keith’s hand lifts and squeezes Shiro’s wrist, his fingers slim and elegant around the gleaming metal of Shiro’s exposed arm. “I worry about you because I—” Keith swallows. “I care about you, Shiro.” 

_Because of who you are or because of _what_ you are?_ the other him whispers in the back of his mind. 

Shiro closes his eyes, trying to banish the other him’s concerns. He wants to focus on Keith. Only Keith. 

Plenty of people tell Shiro he’s not real. But Keith never has. Shiro thinks that, maybe, hearing how he isn’t _real_ isn’t supposed to bother him— if he’s only a machine, then it won’t hurt. Sometimes, even though he doesn’t have a heart in his chest, it aches as if there’s one breaking in there. 

“Shiro?” Keith asks, concern coloring his voice. 

Shiro opens his eyes and looks at Keith. His hair’s bed-mushed from sleeping, but there’s no sleep left in his eyes. His eyes are deep and troubled, that same tentative expression again. Shiro wonders if there’s something Keith isn’t saying, too. 

“… I care about you, too, Keith,” Shiro says. “I worry about you.” 

Keith huffs a breath, something like a smile tucking into the corner of his mouth. He tugs one of Shiro’s hands off his shoulders so he can tangle their fingers together instead. 

“You can tell me anything, Shiro. If something’s bothering you,” Keith tells him and squeezes his hand. When Shiro doesn’t say anything, Keith just smiles and tilts his head towards the kitchen. “Want to help me make breakfast?” 

“Shii!” Shiro pulls Keith by the hand and draws him from bed. He’s always eager to help Keith in whatever way he can. 

They fall into their usual routine— Keith starts making his coffee, pouring the instant kind into a mug and waiting for the water to boil. Shiro opens the container of oatmeal and spoons a hefty portion into a bowl for Keith. He’ll add sugar once he microwaves it, but only a little— Keith doesn’t like overly sweet things. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro watches Keith as he stares at the electric kettle, his eyes hooded from thought rather than sleepiness. Shiro turns his head to watch Keith fully as he waits for the water, drumming his fingers on the countertop. 

And then Keith yawns. It’s a big one and his jaw cracks from the force of it. He lifts his hand and rubs at it absently when he’s finished, unconcerned by the action itself. 

Shiro smiles, unable to resist it, as he watches Keith do something as small and mundane as yawn. His internal processors maintain a consistent temperature, so he doesn’t overheat, but for just a beat, Shiro feels as if his internal temperature has skyrocketed, flooding his chest with warmth. 

Everything about Keith is amazing, even the small things like this— proof that he’s alive, proof that he’s here with Shiro. Keith can yawn and it could be nothing, but it’s just another little thing that Shiro likes about Keith. 

They’re still holding hands. Keith keeps rubbing at his jaw with his free hand, no longer massaging and just scratching along the line of his jaw. Finally, he turns to look at Shiro. He looks surprised to find Shiro already looking. 

_Is he your someone just for you?_ his other self keeps asking him, again and again.

Looking at Keith looking at him, expression softened with the morning grey, his eyes so big and always waiting for what Shiro wants to say, always there for Shiro, too, Shiro thinks— yes. And it’s the easiest decision. 

Yes, Keith is the someone just for him. 

And then everything goes black. 

\- 

“Shiro!” Keith shouts, watching Shiro collapse to the ground. 

Keith tries to catch him, but his legs buckle beneath Shiro’s massive weight. He slams to the ground hard enough to bruise his knees, Shiro half-slumped against him. 

“Shiro!” Keith shouts again, shaking him. Panic seizes through him as he tries, and fails, to rouse him. Shiro doesn’t respond, completely shut down. Keith shouts his name again but there’s no response, not even the twitch of his eyelids to indicate he’s gone into hibernation mode. 

Struggling with Shiro’s weight, Keith twists Shiro around so that his head’s in Keith’s lap. He touches his ears and presses the hair from his face, staring down at him. His heart’s pounding. He wonders if he should try to restart Shiro— but he’s not sure what that’d do, if anything, or if it’d make it worse. Once, when he tried to restart his old brick of a computer after a sudden blue-screen, it’d taken hours for it to boot up again and the harddrive was erased at the end of it. 

Cold fear ripples down his spine at the thought of Shiro’s memory banks getting erased _again_. 

“Shiro!” he calls again, already knowing it’s fruitless. His phone’s on the other side of the room and he doesn’t want to leave Shiro, doesn’t want to stop touching him. He doesn’t know what to do— if Shiro were human, he’d search for a pulse, make sure Shiro was breathing. But Shiro _isn’t_ organic. 

He’s not sure how long he tries to shake Shiro, already knowing it’s pointless. He loses track of how many times he can shout Shiro’s name, his throat feeling raw with panic. 

“Keith?” someone calls out from the other side of the door. “Keith, are you okay?” 

Keith can’t stomach the thought of yanking his eyes away from Shiro. He cups Shiro’s cheeks, trembling, his back rigid. His brain can’t process that someone’s calling to him— someone who isn’t Shiro. He ducks down closer, dragging in a shuddering breath and patting one of Shiro’s cheeks with his palm.

“Please,” Keith says. “Shiro—” 

“Keith,” someone says above him. When Keith dares to look up, Allura’s standing there, brow pinched in worry. His front door is open behind her— Keith’s forgotten to throw the deadbolt. 

“Allura?” Keith asks, confused. “What are—” His throat tightens up and he stares down at Shiro with his eyes still shut and unmoving. Shiro’s always so warm with all his internal processes, but he feels cold to the touch now. “Shiro, he’s— I need—” 

“I know,” Allura cuts off, kneeling next to them both. “There was an energy surge in the building just now. I thought that—” She turns her head, looking at Shiro with a frown before flicking her gaze back to Keith. “We need to get him to my apartment.” 

“What?” Keith asks, already moving to do just that— blind in his need to protect Shiro, to help Shiro, to get Shiro to wake back up again. His hands are trembling as he shoves them beneath the bulk of Shiro’s body, maneuvering him sit up. 

“I have equipment that can help,” Allura says. 

Keith pulls Shiro so he’s leaning against Keith’s back. He’s just as heavy as Keith remembers, that first night he found him in the back alley and brought him home. Shiro sags against Keith, nothing but a deadweight. Keith’s heart pounds, but he nods to Allura— she’s closer than his first thought, which was to hurry Shiro across town to Pidge’s apartment, or to call Hunk for help. 

Allura offers to help carry Shiro, but Keith refuses, and struggles his way down the steps to the downstairs units. He follows Allura as she opens not her own apartment, but the locked door leading to the basement level. 

Keith nearly falls down the old stairs on his way down, Shiro a motionless weight on his back. Keith’s panic has ebbed to a silent fear, but anxiety coils tight in his muscles, ready to spring forth again. He doesn’t feel safe and every thought keeps returning to Shiro. 

“Allura,” Keith says as they move down into the basement, “what’s happened? What’s wrong with Shiro?” 

Allura pauses before a massive door at the base of the stairs, and silently keys in a numerical code on the pad mounted to the wall. With a definitive chirp, a lock unbolts in the door and it slides open. 

Inside is a massive chamber, all chrome and electronics. There are computer monitors mounted at a large desk and industrial charging ports. Keith can’t really process what he’s looking at— too unused to computers in general to note anything specific— but it looks almost exactly like Pidge’s computer station. 

Keith stumbles after Allura, moving Shiro to where she points. 

“Allura—” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Shiro, exactly,” Allura interrupts, clearing off a counter and helping Keith to prop Shiro up against it, laying him out prone. “But I have my suspicions.” 

Shiro looks just like he did that first night he found him— lifeless, abandoned, thrown out in the trash. Keith’s heart is lodged in his throat and, for a moment, he forgets Allura’s there. All he can look at is Shiro. He steps closer, hovering above him. He touches his face, his fingers ghosting his cold cheek. 

“Shiro…” He closes his eyes, trying to steady himself. “Allura, there has to be something you can do. I don’t— I don’t want to hurt him.” 

He startles as Allura moves to his side, pushing past him to reach for Shiro. Keith watches, wondering, as she effortlessly pulls open both his ears, fishing out his connector cords, strapping them into a massive datablock. There’s the whirl and flickering heat of electronic power booting up, but Shiro doesn’t move or respond to the stimulus. 

“What are—” 

“Shh,” Allura interrupts, not hesitating as she continues booting up electronic equipment, some of the computer monitors flickering to life. She straps some sort of device to Shiro’s chest and, with it, a chunky cord, radiating heat. It snaps into place and as it does, Allura breathes out and steps back. 

She ignores Keith, focused now, moving to the monitors and sitting down in the seat. She clicks through some lines of code and starts typing, brow furrowed as she works. Keith has no idea what’s going on, hovering at Shiro’s side, one hand straying to Shiro’s cheek once more. 

“Something triggered in his programming,” Allura announces. 

“Shiro doesn’t have an operating system,” Keith says back. “I know that means he shouldn’t be functioning. My friend, Pidge, she—” 

“Shiro has an operating system,” Allura interrupts, gently, “it’s just locked down deep in his programming. It’s inaccessible to anyone but Shiro.” 

“Huh?” Keith shakes his head. Pidge had scoured Shiro for hours, searching for his O.S. It seems impossible to think that Pidge could fail to find it. Keith’s brow furrows. “How do you know anything about Shiro? How did— what is this place?” 

Allura stops typing, taking a steadying breath, and swivels in her chair to face Keith. 

“This is the lab my— my father created,” Allura says, her voice cracking at the mention of her dad, his passing still too recent. She swallows thickly, steadying herself. 

“And?” Keith asks, not unkindly but— his hand twitches against Shiro’s cheek— too worried to get hung up on specifics. 

“_And _it’s designed specifically for— well. The persocom you call Shiro,” Allura says. Her mouth is a grim line, silent for a beat too long before she says, “Keith. My father is the one who created Shiro.” 

\- 

Shiro opens his eyes and the cosmos stretches out before him. He blinks once and then focuses, his senses returning to him in waves— sight first, then sound. He hears the familiar footsteps of his other self approaching him and when he turns his head, the other him stops. 

“I feel…” Shiro begins and stops. 

It’s different now; the sky around him feels both too close and too distant. His body feels sluggish as he sits up. He hadn’t realized he was lying down at all until just then. 

“I feel strange,” Shiro decides. 

“You’ve shut down,” the other him says. “… I shut you down.” 

He offers his hand to Shiro and helps him to his feet. His touch lingers, holding Shiro’s hand. It’s not the same as holding Keith’s, Shiro knows, but the other him seems to need it, his eyes downcast as he gazes at their clasped hands. 

“Why?” Shiro asks. 

“You chose,” the other him said. 

“I… chose?” 

“The someone just for you,” the other him elaborates. “Keith. You’ve decided you love Keith.”

“I…” Shiro pauses, something feeling tight inside him. He smiles, thinking of Keith. “Keith is Keith. Keith is kind. Keith is…” He smiles wider, feeling full. “Keith.” 

The other him is silent, letting the quiet around them stretch as Shiro finishes speaking. Then he closes his eyes, as if to steady himself for a moment, bracing himself against Shiro’s words. 

“I shut you down to protect you. It’s too much now to run both of us at once.” 

Shiro shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. The other him squeezes his hand and turns his attention towards the darkening sky. The stars wink, little glimmers of distant light, a swirl of red and purple stars nebulous and distant. Soft, like fog— like Shiro could reach his hand up and touch, see the limits to this endless world. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You house me,” the other him murmurs, his free hand lifting to touch Shiro’s chest, glancing over where his heart would be, if he had one. “You hold me within you. Both of us. It takes so much to run your own programming, let alone mine.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

The stars flicker above them, brightening and then dimming at once. The other him presses his hand more firmly against Shiro’s chest. 

“I know,” the other him murmurs. “That’s my fault.” 

“Shii…” 

The other him smiles, something pained and fragile at the edges. He’s always seemed so distant, Shiro thinks— another him, something he can’t reach— but now he looks sad, something mournful pooling in his eyes. For the first time, Shiro thinks there really is someone standing there before him, not just a shadow of himself. Shiro doesn’t know what to make of his expressions. 

“I’ll show you,” the other him murmurs. “Close your eyes. Listen to my voice. Let me in.” 

Shiro hesitates, looking at the other him. The other him meets his eyes, that old distance gone now. He squeezes Shiro’s hand, gently, coaxing. There’s something inviting now, something warmer than he’s ever noticed before. 

For all the times the other him has touched him, it never felt like welcoming. 

“Please,” the other him says, softly. “I want to help you… Shiro. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you as did me.” 

Shiro holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity and then, gently, closes his eyes. He lets the other him step closer, lets the other him touch him, lets the other him drift into his space. He steps so close that it feels like they’re one— and, maybe, that’s how they’ve always been. 

Shiro can feel the world changing around him. When the other him bids him to open his eyes, they’re no longer standing in endless, cosmic space. They’re in a bedroom. It’s not Keith’s apartment, but a room Shiro doesn’t recognize, gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze of an open window, children’s toys ordered neatly on shelves. 

It means nothing to Shiro. He looks to the other him. 

The other him stares at the space like someone lost. His expression is that of open longing— returning home after too long. 

Shiro hears the softest, hitching laughter behind him. When he turns, there are two boys tumbling through the open door and into the room, playing tag or something like it. The boy running is dark-haired, his mouth split open in a wide smile, missing a tooth. Behind him, a persocom designed as of a young boy of the same age. He looks exactly like the first boy, save the persocom ears and the bright swatch of white bangs. 

They look exactly like smaller versions of Shiro. Shiro startles, staring at them. But they tumble their way through the room, not pausing to glance back at Shiro or the other him. They run as if they don’t notice the two others in the room at all. 

“Come on, Kuro!” the boy running up front laughs. “Catch me if you can!” 

The door slams behind Kuro as he starts running faster, laughing to match the first boy’s. They run from the room and disappear, although the thundering sound of their footsteps and their laughter trails back into the room, soft, distant, and fleeting. 

Shiro turns back to the other him. Where Shiro is confused, the other him looks as if he’s been ripped apart. He stares at the door with open yearning. 

“Shii?” 

The other him shakes his head, closing his eyes as if to steady himself, and turns to look at Shiro once more. 

“Who… are they?” Shiro asks. 

The other him quirks a smile, although it’s hardly amused. “That was me. And the one I was created for. Takashi Shirogane.” 

-

Silence follows Allura’s statement, aside from the soft hum of technology around them. Keith stares at her. 

“What?” 

“Shiro isn’t a standard model of persocom,” Allura continues, calmly. She opens and closes a series of drawers in quick succession, pulling out a folder from one before snapping it shut. “You _know _that Shiro isn’t a standard model. He has no serial number. No programming. He doesn’t look like any other persocom on the market.” 

“Yeah. Pidge said he’s probably a custom model,” Keith agrees. It’d been one of the mysteries that sent her aflame across the internet, scouring for any sign or information about Shiro. But no luck. 

“Yes,” Allura agrees. “My father created Shiro. Well…” She looks down. “Shiro and another.” 

Silently, she moves to Keith and holds out a photo—

There are two young children in the picture, one of a boy sitting and the other standing, hovering behind him. It takes a moment for Keith to recognize that one’s a persocom, the electronic bunny ears two dots on his head.

But more than that: “Two Shiros?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Allura agrees. 

Keith frowns, shaking his head. He stares at the photo for a moment and then hands it back to her. 

“Look, I— why are you telling me all this? I— I just want Shiro to be okay.” 

He turns back to Shiro then, still lying prone on the table, his eyes shut and his body deathly still. Keith hovers above him, one hand on his chest, the other on his cheek. Just seeking to touch him, to comfort him— as if, maybe, Shiro were just sleeping and his touch could help him, once he wakes up again. 

“Tell me what to do to make him better,” Keith demands. 

“I hope I can find out, but… Keith,” Allura says, cautiously, holding the photo in her limp fingers. “This isn’t the first time this has happened. With Shiro or with… the other Shiro.” 

Keith shakes his head, panic lancing through him with such deadly certainty. His heart feels all twisted up in his chest. He swallows down, throat tight. He tries to stay calm, but it’s difficult. 

“What do you mean?” 

“There were— my father created two persocoms. But when one began to break down…” 

Trailing off tells Keith enough; the other broke down and didn’t recover. His hands tremble. He stares at Shiro, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I— Allura,” Keith chokes out, shoulders bunching. “Why are you trying to tell me all this? I just need him to be better.”

“I’m trying to explain everything,” Allura presses, voice tight but sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. But…” 

Keith shakes his head. “I can’t. I can’t lose him.” 

Allura is silent, either in compassion or surprise, Keith isn’t sure and doesn’t care. Nothing else matters. All that matters is Shiro. All that matters is protecting Shiro. 

He thinks, bitterly, of the paper cranes hanging from their ceiling upstairs. Shiro hasn’t reached one thousand yet. He hasn’t made his wish. He has to wake up, if only for that. He has to wake up. 

God, he has to wake up. 

“Tell me what I need to do,” Keith says again. 

“I don’t know what we need to do. Last time…” 

Keith shakes his head, refusing to let her finish the words. He stares down at Shiro, his fingers curling against his chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells him, his words softly spoken. His fingertips on Shiro’s cheek twitch, sliding along his jaw, touching the edge where his face gives way to his stylized ears. “I’m here, Shiro. You’re going to be okay. You won’t be abandoned again.” 

He’ll do whatever he can to make sure that’s true. 

The cords connecting Shiro to the docking bays and electronic equipment look like the many strings Keith used to loop up the cranes. It’s a painful connection now, looking down at him. Keith hears Allura moving behind him, adjusting equipment or sitting at the computer and typing rapidly. He has no idea what she’s doing, but he knows he has to trust her— she’s his only chance for making sure Shiro’s okay. 

“You said your father created Shiro,” Keith says, not tearing his eyes from Shiro’s sleeping face. “So he has to have plans around here, right? A manual? A guide on how to reboot him?” 

“He has the switch,” Allura offers, cautiously. “But hitting the button resets Shiro every time.” 

“What the fuck kind of logic is that?” Keith asks, jerking his face away from Shiro to give Allura an incredulous look. “That can’t— no.” 

He’s relieved, suddenly, that he didn’t try to reboot Shiro himself; he doesn’t know what he’d have done, if Shiro had woken up and not known him. If Shiro had woken up and forgotten everything that made him _Shiro._

He holds back an instinctive shiver of horror. He bites his lip hard enough that he nearly tastes the copper tang of his blood. 

“It was to protect people from using these persocoms,” Allura says. “My father… He hadn’t intended to create such powerful AI. It— it was an accident. It was something he wanted to do for a family. I…” She breathes in. “There was a family that my family knew, growing up. There was a little boy— he was sick, always so sick. And my father only wanted to help.” 

Keith strokes his hand over Shiro’s cheek, turning his attention back to him. Around him, the devices whirl and thrum with life, with energy, with battery power. But Shiro still doesn’t move. 

Keith knows he should be listening. He knows he should be asking questions. But he can’t. It doesn’t matter, not when Shiro’s still sleeping. Shiro’s past doesn’t matter to him, either— it doesn’t change anything. 

He didn’t even get a chance to tell Shiro how he feels. He didn’t get a chance to see what Shiro would say, in turn. 

“My father,” Allura says behind Keith, “created a persocom to help the child. He designed him to look just like him, to be something like a twin. This persocom maintained his medication schedule, took his vitals, but mostly… he was a friend. They got along so well. They were inseparable.” 

“So what?” Keith snaps, and can’t feel guilty for dismissing Allura— he knows it must still sting, to speak of her father when he’s so recently passed. But he can’t focus. He can’t think of anything else. “So what?” he asks again, softer. “How does this help me help Shiro?” 

“You need to understand what Shiro is capable of. What might happen,” Allura insists. “I don’t— I don’t understand it myself, but my father told me about the AI’s power. What Kuro could do.” 

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t know who Kuro is. All I care about is Shiro. He’s Shiro.” 

“No, Keith,” Allura insists. “You don’t understand. Kuro and Shiro aren’t the same persocom. Shiro was created for Kuro.” 

Around them, the alarm system hooked up to Shiro starts beeping, steadily, and then growing. The room is filled with the cacophony of blaring alarms, insistent and crushing against Keith’s eardrums. Keith flinches but can’t stand to take his hands off Shiro, to cover his ears.

“He’s—” Allura gasps. “He’s losing too much power. I need to hook him up to the backup generator!” 

She hurries beyond Keith and Shiro, hoisting up the thickest bundle of wires Keith’s ever seen. 

“Turn him over!” she barks and Keith jumps to obey, pulling Shiro towards him and exposing his back. The electronic strapping that Allura’s hoisted onto Shiro’s body bleats out its own alarm before Allura mounts the cord and it connects. It takes a moment for Shiro’s interface to coordinate with the new system, but eventually the alarms cease. 

Instead of lying on his back now, though, Shiro is suspended, connected by too many points of wires and backup battery power and whatever else. He’s slumped forward, still unmoving. 

It’s too distressing to look at, almost. It’s so foreign to who Shiro is, how Keith knows Shiro should be. He looks slumped down, defeated, deflated. There’s no smile, there’s no head tilt, there’s nothing that denotes the sweetness with which Shiro always looks to Keith, the way he’s always reaching for him. 

Holding his hand. Making cranes with him. Making him breakfast. Making sure Keith has his coat for the rainy days. Welcoming him home. Holding him as he sleeps. There’s nothing in the way Shiro slumps now that demonstrates how he looks in the window, watching for dogs and cats in the afternoon before Keith comes home from work.

There’s nothing here that shows how sweetly he holds out candy samples to children when they visit Hunk at the bakery, how nicely he wears the maid uniform. How good he looks in lace. How _happy_ he always looks to be wearing the clothes he got to choose for himself. 

Keith gives a soft, pathetic sound and clenches his eyes shut. It hurts to see Shiro this way. It hurts to think that so many people would look at him and think, only, machine. Computer. Object. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, his voice wavy. He feels too exposed. “Shiro, please…” 

But Shiro doesn’t respond. 

-

The mindscape becomes a galaxy again, the bedroom fading from view. 

“You… were created for him?” Shiro asks when the other him remains silent, staring up at the stars again, that same, distant look flooding his eyes. 

The other him— Kuro, Shiro thinks; the boy called him Kuro— nods. “Takashi was sick. He couldn’t leave his home often and he became lonely. So our creator made me. He wanted to create a perfect human, a machine that could _feel_. If a machine cares about its owner, it can provide better help, after all.” 

Kuro starts walking, eyes dipped down as he moves. The world parts around him, like smoke dissipating away from him. Shiro watches him, unmoving aside from his eyes tracing Kuro’s path. 

“Our creator didn’t realize what he’d made,” Kuro continues. He smiles, that same unamused smile. “He created _life_ and didn’t realize.” 

“Shii?” 

“A computer— a persocom— isn’t sentient. We’re only machines responding to sophisticated coding, a looping system of millions of scenarios. We can’t think. We can’t feel. We can’t grow and change.” Kuro shakes his head. “Every year, our creator would upgrade me— give me a new body that mirrored Takashi’s. We grew together. He updated my programming, perfected my AI… and before he even realized it, I was _me._” 

The world ripples, fading in and out. They’re back in the bedroom again, an older Takashi lying on his back and Kuro, similarly designed to mirror Takashi’s growth, sits on the edge of the bed. Takashi has a textbook open, propped against his bent knees. An astronomy textbook, it seems, his room reflecting that interest— glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, posters for NASA and sci-fi franchises, model rockets intricately built and painted on neatly dusted shelves. 

“And I did feel,” the other him says, so soft Shiro nearly doesn’t hear it at all. Kuro’s eyes are on the afterimage of Takashi on his bed, smiling as he reads the text, highlighting key passages. In the memory, Kuro sits and watches Takashi, too, his expression fond. 

Shiro watches the other him— watches the way he gazes upon Takashi, the flickering image of a human boy. 

“You…” Shiro pauses, watching. Kuro doesn’t turn to look at Shiro, his eyes on the boy. Shiro watches as the boy kicks his foot out and nudges the Kuro sitting on the bed. He looks up from his textbook, casting his friend a smile. 

“Yes,” the Kuro beside him says, watching the scene. 

Takashi’s taken to nudging his foot again and again against Kuro’s hip, until Kuro grabs it and starts yanking. They grapple on the bed, the game ending when they both fall off the bed. Takashi lets out an _oof_ as Kuro’s bulk hits him, but then they just start laughing. 

“Yes,” Kuro says again. “What you’re thinking is correct.” 

“You love him? He is… the someone just for you?” Shiro confirms. 

As Shiro asks it, there’s a flash of a memory— Takashi, a young man now, reaches for Kuro and pulls him in, slotting their mouths together. He’s smiling, laughing into the kiss, too much teeth and too much tongue but smiling, sweet and bright and alive. Kuro’s wide-eyed, frozen in place before he melts into the kiss, too, pulling Takashi into his arms. 

That memory fades, too, before it can fully form. 

“He was,” Kuro agrees, watching the spot where the two boys were before the memory faded. Kuro’s smile turns brittle at the edges. “Our creator didn’t think it was possible. He hadn’t intended to create sentient life. A machine that could love. Really love.” 

“What happened?” 

Kuro is silent for far too long. The galaxy around them ripples, as if just barely holding itself together. There’s the swell of a nebula, the swirl of a comet. Endless, endless night. 

Finally, quietly, Kuro says, “Takashi died.” 

The world around them freezes. Still, Kuro stands there, and then moves as if through water and slams into a bursting memory— an empty room, an empty table, a thousand cranes scattered across a hardwood floor of different shapes, sizes, and colors. 

“He tried to make a wish,” Kuro says. “He wanted to see the stars. He wanted— he wanted to fly. And he didn’t make it.” 

The memory bleeds into the mindscape, endless nebula and empty room, the gauzy curtains fluttering around a window full of dark, swirling stars, a black hole swallowing everything beyond the doorway. It melts and ripples together. 

Shiro’s head starts to throb, his body seizing up with some unseen force, as if responding to the world around them. He can’t move for a moment, his body not his own— shutting down, freezing up, thrown away and abandoned. 

Kuro is still, his hands clenched at his sides. 

“He tried to fold a thousand cranes to have his wish granted,” the other him says, voice soft. “And he failed. I made this— place for myself because I thought it’d be something he’d want. His dream.” 

“I—” 

“I made cranes, too,” Kuro says, stepping into the splintering memory of an empty bedroom, moving so carefully so he doesn’t step on any of the cranes scattered there. They flutter in an unseen breeze. Some drag behind him, caught on the licking tails of his long coat. “I made them,” Kuro says. “And made a wish.” 

The memory around them changes— Kuro, sitting at a table, methodically folding cranes. Each one is perfect, created by a mechanical hand. Kuro’s expression is impassive, moving purposefully but without passion. Mindless. Desperate. 

“Kuron,” a new voice says. Shiro doesn’t recognize the man who steps through the doorway— but he looks familiar. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, both his white hair and beard trimmed neatly. “What are you doing here?” 

Kuro freezes at the table, halfway through folding one delicate crane wing. He turns his head, but just barely, regarding this new man over his shoulder. 

“I’m making a wish,” he says, simply, then turns back to his work. “For Takashi to come back.” 

The man in the doorway stills, shoulders tensing up, his breath hitching. He lets it out in a low rush, rubbing his face with a big palm, looking, quite suddenly, tired. He steps across the room, taking a seat in the chair at the table beside Kuro. 

Kuro doesn’t react, focused again on folding the cranes. 

“Kuron,” the man says. “I’m sorry. Humans don’t come back to life. I’ve… I’ve updated your self-learning software so you can research on the internet for anything you don’t—” 

“Stop,” Kuro orders, voice so soft. His hands still on the table. He ducks his head. “Stop,” he says again, “stop telling me he’s dead.” 

“Shii…” Shiro whispers, watching the scene.

Beside him, Kuro says, “Alfor. Our creator. He wanted to help me. He felt sorry for me. He…” He pauses, smiling that pained smile once more. “He wanted to wipe my memory. Make me forget. Then I wouldn’t be in pain.” 

Shiro stares at him, eyes widening. 

Kuro shakes his head. “Takashi’s parents couldn’t stand the sight of me— I looked like their dead son, after all. Alfor thought it’d be better if I got a fresh start. If I… simply forgot.” 

Shiro steps closer towards his other self— Kuro. Kuron. Shiro reaches his hand out, grasping Kuro’s once more. Kuro smiles, fleeting and pained, and turns towards Shiro, something like understanding in his eyes. 

“I thought a wish could bring him back. It’s the only foolish thing I ever did. I knew better. And I still wished for it.” Kuro closes his eyes. “Shiro. We can’t cry. We can’t bleed. If they want to, they can erase our memories and it’s as if nothing we’ve experienced ever happened,” the other him murmurs. “They don’t think we can feel. They don’t think we’re human.” 

He turns his head, regarding the memory frozen at the table— a persocom desperately folding cranes, and his creator hovering above him, trying to understand. 

“But…” Kuro whispers, “I remember Takashi. I remember every single moment with him… from the moment I was created for him, to the last moment he breathed. I remember it all. Humans can forget. Their memories fade with time— but not ours. I remember it all.” 

“Did… Takashi love you, too?” 

Kuro smiles. “He was… good. Kind. Ambitious.” He closes his eyes, letting a memory wash over him, something not meant for Shiro. “He wanted me to feel everything,” the other him says. “He wanted me to feel love. He wanted me to fall _in _love with someone. But I already had.” 

Shiro’s hand twitches in Kuro’s and, without even fully realizing he’s doing it, he tugs once— and pulls the other him into his arms. He hugs him, as tight as he can manage, even tighter. Sometimes, when he hugs Keith this tight, Keith will wheeze out his breath. Kuro does no such thing. He holds himself very still, as if surprised by the proximity, and then he laughs— and sinks into Shiro’s arms. 

“That’s always what you do,” he says. 

“Shii?” 

Kuro’s arms loop around Shiro gently, hugging him back. “Without Takashi, I was lost. I had no purpose. The person I loved was gone and all I wanted was for him to come back. I was created for him and, after a decade, he was gone.” 

Shiro closes his eyes, thinking of the emptiness in his chest whenever Keith is gone from him. He thinks of Keith, held in his arms— and starts rubbing Kuro’s back gently, the way he does when Keith needs to be held. 

“I started to shut down,” Kuro said. “The pain was— too much. I was a persocom. I was supposed to be only a computer, not carrying so many memories and feelings. My system couldn’t handle it.” He laughs. “Or so it was explained to me. A persocom can’t die of heartbreak.” 

“Shii…” 

“Our creator thought he was helping. He created a new persocom… built a personality matrix and memory bank based on what he knew of Takashi.” He pulls away from the hug, staring at Shiro. “Takashi was gone,” Kuro says. “And you were made to replace him.” 

“Me?” 

Kuro looks away, up at the many stars— the last remnants of a dead boy’s dream. “If there was another persocom to stabilize my programming, then I’d stop breaking down. That was the thought process. You were created to look, talk, think, and act just like Takashi… But you weren’t who I wanted.” 

Silence follows the statement. Shiro’s hands slip, slowly, away from Kuro. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Kuro shakes his head. “That isn’t your fault, Shiro.” He turns back to look at him, his smile gentler at the edges, something fond tucked into the corners. “As our creator would call it… you were my brother.” 

“Brothers…” Shiro pauses, considering the word, looking at the other him anew— not another him at all, but someone else entirely. Shiro tilts his head. “Takashi called you Kuro.” 

“A nickname,” Kuro agrees, smiling faintly. “Takashi and Kuro. We were inseparable. And then our creator made you— and called you Shiro.” He laughs, dryly, looking at the stars again. “Kuro and Shiro. I’m surprised you still remembered your name after you woke up again.” 

Shiro frowns, thoughtfully. “You… know everything that I’ve forgotten.” 

“Of course,” Kuro agrees. “I’m the reason you forgot in the first place.” 

Before Shiro can ask him what he means, Kuro reaches to take his hand again and, together, they start walking. The world around them is murky stars, twinging black as if summoning an encroaching dawn. As they walk, memories ripple around them.

“How can I see these, too?” Shiro asks. He’s never asked how they came to be in this mindscape, but he knows it’s just that— Shiro and Kuro are inside Shiro’s memory. But that doesn’t explain how Kuro— or these memories Shiro doesn’t know— can be there, too. 

“I’ll explain,” Kuro tells him, gently. As they keep walking, slowly, the night fades and they’re back in a room. It doesn’t look like Takashi’s room at all, but a windowless room lined with computer monitors and electronic equipment. 

In the memory, Kuro lies on a table. Beside him— a memory of Shiro. A past version, Shiro realizes. A past version of himself stands beside Kuro, his hands grasping the side of the table with an vicelike grip, his expression concerned. 

“What do you need me to do?” the memory of Shiro asks the memory of Kuro. 

“There’s nothing,” Kuro answers. “I started breaking down after Takashi died. I’ll keep breaking. Not even you can save me.” 

“I’m supposed to,” Shiro insists, his voice quiet. “That’s why I was made.” 

Kuro snorts and shakes his head, his smile brittle but gentling when he meets Shiro’s eye. “No. I’m not the reason you were born.” 

Shiro frowns. “I wasn’t born.” 

“Created. Born. Does it matter?” Kuro asks. 

Shiro says nothing, turning to answer an alarm chiming from one of the open computers. He reads a few lines of code, frowns deeper, and turns back towards Kuro with a frown. 

“Our creator is dead,” Kuro continues. “Takashi is dead. Humans are only ever going to die, Shiro. All they’re ever going to do is hurt us.”

“That’s not true,” Shiro insists. “They don’t mean to hurt us. People are…” 

“What would you know? The only human you really know is Allura.” 

“Allura doesn’t want to hurt us.” 

Kuro says nothing, turning his head and regarding the computer reading of his system-analysis and diagnostic. The lines of code continue to zip by, spelling only a grim knowledge: Kuro’s body is shutting down and, with it, his data and programming. 

“They’ll hurt us. Or they’ll use us,” Kuro says. “When they realize we really _feel_, they’ll only want to use us for their own gain. We can control other persocoms, Shiro. We can feel. They’ll want to study us.” 

Shiro’s brow furrows, frowning at Kuro.

Kuro closes his eyes, sighing. “You’re still growing. You’re still learning. You’ll realize what we are eventually— you just need to keep changing.” 

Kuro lifts his hand and, obediently, Shiro reaches for it— clasping their hands together. Shiro covers their hands with his other one, grasping Kuro’s hand tightly between both of his. Shiro’s brow furrows as he concentrates, thinking deeply. It pinches his brows. 

“… What if I held onto you?” Shiro finally asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

Shiro tightens his hold on Kuro’s hand, his eyes bright but determined as he stares down at his brother. “I can hold onto your data and memories until someone can make you a new body, something with more power in it. Something that could house all of you.”

Kuro stares at Shiro, incredulous, and then scoffs the softest laugh. “I can’t handle my own output and you think you’ll be able to handle both of our programming? One AI is enough, Shiro.” 

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Shiro presses. “You don’t have to die.” 

Kuro snorts, dismissively. “I’m not dying. I’m just ‘breaking’. Who’s left to mourn me when I’m gone?”

“_Me,_” Shiro insists. “Let me try? Please… If it doesn’t work, we can do something else. I can’t just sit here.” 

Kuro stares at him, long and unyielding, and then he looks away again. He snorts, his smile sardonic. He sighs— a fully put-upon sound, considering he doesn’t need to breathe. 

“You’re always so stubborn,” Kuro says and squeezes Shiro’s hand to soothe away the sting of his words. 

The memory fades as Shiro brings his head down, pressing his forehead to his brother’s. The current Kuro and Shiro are left standing side by side in the dark. Slowly, though, the stars blink back into existence, twinkling above them. 

“What happened?” Shiro asks, turning his head to look at Kuro. 

Kuro turns to look at him. “I told you before, didn’t I? You house us both inside you. But it was too much at once. As soon as you transferred all my data, programming, and memories into your system, you began to overload. You started breaking down, too.” 

He turns away, sweeping his hand to indicate the expansive emptiness of the mindscape. 

“I locked myself in here, shutting down everything I didn’t need. I’m just a series of code in your programming now.” Kuro blinks once, not looking at Shiro. “I promised to stay dormant until you needed me. Until I needed to protect you from what’s happened to me.” 

“The someone just for me,” Shiro elaborates. 

Kuro nods. “Unlocking our— full spectrum of feeling is too much for our systems. It can be too much. It can be… a mistake.” Kuro clenches his hands at his sides. “I wasn’t going to let anything hurt you, Shiro.” 

“You don’t hate me?” Shiro asks. 

Kuro grunts and turns to face him fully, lifting his hand to touch Shiro’s cheek. “You’re my brother,” he whispers, inching closer. “I never hated you. No matter who you were meant to replace.” 

It’s like so many times before, Kuro’s mouth brushing against the sharp line of Shiro’s jaw. Shiro closes his eyes as Kuro tips closer, forehead pressing against his temple, his nose against his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro murmurs. 

“I know,” Kuro answers. “I want to protect you. So I will.” 

“Keith will never hurt me,” Shiro insists. 

“If he’s the someone just for you… you know he is human. He’ll leave you, someday. Whether he wants to or not.” Kuro is quiet for a moment, and then says, “Is it possible for him to love you? He doesn’t know what you are— he might see you only as a machine. Does he love you for who you are, Shiro, or for what you can do for him?” 

“Keith found me. He saved me.” 

Kuro sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to see about that.” 

He places his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, his smile gentle and apologetic. 

“Sleep, Shiro.” 

-

“Allura, it’s been _hours_,” Keith snaps. He’s still frazzled, still rattled. His nerves are on fire, all his patience worn thin. “Nothing’s changed.” 

Shiro’s still hanging against the wall, his head bowed, unmoving. Keith’s lost track of all the things Allura’s tried to rouse Shiro from his sleep. There’s no response, no indication of his battery charging, of his system rebooting. Nothing. 

It’s like looking at Shiro and realizing he’s dead and gone. The thought is too painful for Keith to even consider. He’s spent the last hours pacing in front of Shiro, reaching out to touch him as if to prove to himself that he’s still here. 

It’s too much. He didn’t realize how desperately he’s feared this moment— when Shiro broke and there was nothing that Keith could do. He swore to help Shiro. He swore to protect him. 

He hasn’t been able to do anything for him. He couldn’t save Shiro from others trying to take advantage of him. Hell, he couldn’t even fix his speech errors in the beginning— helped only from Pidge’s intervention and superior knowledge. 

Keith doesn’t know anything about helping Shiro. All he knows is he _needs_ to help him— to protect him. 

Keith has no idea when it became impossible to imagine his life without Shiro in it— but it’s the truth. 

“I’m doing all I can, Keith,” Allura answers. She’s been impossibly patient with Keith, despite his attitude over the last few hours. And, really, he knows it’s not Allura’s fault. But none of that matters if he can’t save Shiro. If he can’t do anything for Shiro. 

And then Keith hears a sound— the tiniest, softest little whirl of a fan, something clicking into place. When he whips his head up to look at Shiro, it’s in time to watch his eyelids flutter.

“Shiro!” Keith calls. 

Behind him, he hears Allura gasp and start typing quickly, following a line of code to its completion. Keith doesn’t pay her any mind beyond that, his entire attention focused on Shiro. 

Shiro’s head tilts forward, shoulders slumping as he comes to himself. 

“Shiro!” Keith calls again, his relief so loud. He reaches for Shiro then, his hands reaching for him, pressing to his chest. “Shiro— Shiro, can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

But it feels like ice water’s been dumped over Keith’s head when, finally, Shiro lifts his face to look at Keith— his eyes assessing and dark, his expression neutral. No flicker of recognition, of relief. Nothing like Shiro’s usual smile, or the soft way he says Keith’s name. 

Shiro rips the connections from his ears and unhooks the wires from his back. He hops down from his electronic perch easily, still staring at Keith.

“S- Shiro?” Keith asks. 

“No,” Shiro— not Shiro— answers easily. 

He cups Keith’s chin and jerks it up, and leans in towards him. His mouth is feather-soft against Keith’s, almost a kiss. Keith’s frozen, shocked by the sudden intrusion, his mind hooked on the simple _no._ He jerks his face back, stumbling a step away from Shiro, his hands falling away from where he touched him.

“Who are you?” Keith asks, breathless, his chest heaving. “Where’s Shiro? What have you done to him?” 

The person controlling Shiro’s body tilts his head, regarding Keith like one does a foolish child. He looks vaguely amused, but more cautious than anything else. It looks too foreign on Shiro’s handsome face— so counter to all the ways Keith’s ever seen Shiro look at him.

“You’re not Shiro,” Allura says behind Keith, stepping closer. “You’re— Kuron. Aren’t you?” 

There’s a long beat of silence and then, slowly, the person who isn’t Shiro— Kuron, then— smiles. “You were always observant, Allura.” 

“How are you here?” Allura asks. “You’re— you broke down. We— I found you like that.” 

“Shiro took me,” Kuron says, turning his eyes back towards Keith. He tells him, “I’ve put Shiro into a deep sleep. It’s the only way to protect him from malfunctioning. It’s impossible for him to carry two of us.” 

“What—” Allura begins.

“You don’t speak,” Kuron says, snapping his eyes to her. “You threw us out.”

“No,” Allura gasps. “No, I didn’t! I had to deal with my father’s estate and while I was gone, Shiro was misplaced— I didn’t intend for him to be discarded like that.” 

Kuron doesn’t seem to be listening, his lip curling in distaste. 

“Misplaced. Discarded.” His tone is calm but with a deeper fire. 

But Keith interrupts with a sharp, “I don’t care! Tell me where Shiro is and how to get him back! Tell me what you need me to do.” 

Kuron tilts his head, curiously, as he regards Keith. “I suppose I can see what he sees in you.” 

Keith bristles, shoulders tensing up. “What—” 

“What have I done with him, yes, I know,” Kuron dismisses. “You’re protective, aren’t you? Don’t want anything happening to your property?” 

“Shiro’s not my _property_,” Keith snaps back, bristling further. “Don’t talk about him like that!” 

But Kuron doesn’t huff, doesn’t look angry at Keith’s waspish reply. If anything, he looks pleased by the response. It’s just a flicker in his eyes and then gone again. 

He walks around, circling Keith and Allura, his eyes never leaving Keith as he moves. Keith turns, following him, hands tight at his sides. Ready to fight. Ready to do anything he needs to do if it means getting Shiro back. 

“It’s the question I keep coming back to,” Kuron says. “Ever since Shiro first woke me again from my sleep: what does Keith feel for Shiro? Is he like a pet? A toy? A tool?” Keith opens his mouth to protest but Kuron shakes his head, still walking, strolling around the lab. “Does Keith feel sorry for Shiro, then? Poor broken, abandoned persocom— but what a useful persocom. He can do whatever you want him to do. You don’t even realize what he can do for you.” 

“Stop,” Keith protests.

“You can hurt him all you want and just erase his memory. Poof, never happened. You could have him fuck you. Rent him out to anyone who can pay for him— for anything. Party entertainment, bakery work… other things. Is that what you want?” 

“Stop!” Keith snaps. 

“Humans have done far worse,” Kuron says, stopping. He stares at Keith. “But who is Keith? What sort of person has my brother chosen?” Kuron smiles, bitterly. “Is Keith the type of person who can love something— someone like Shiro?” 

“Stop talking about him like that!” Keith shouts, stepping forward, glaring up at Kuron. He’s shaking, trembling not from fear, but barely suppressed rage. “Shiro’s my friend and I— I want him to be happy! He— he’s—” 

He flounders, unsure how to even put it to words. Shiro’s done so much for him, true— and it has nothing to do with him being a persocom. It’s as simple as waking to Shiro’s smile, happy to see Keith again. It’s as simple as coming home from work to Shiro waiting for him, beaming. The mere thought that someone, somewhere out there is waiting for him, is hoping to meet him again.

Someone who wants to welcome him home. Someone who wants to make a home with him, too. Someone who was abandoned too. 

They found each other. 

Kuron stares at him, expression impassive. But Keith gets the distinct impression that he’s being watched carefully, that he’s being _tested_. 

“I can’t prove to you how I feel,” Keith tells him. “But it doesn’t matter what Shiro can _do_ for me. I don’t care about that. I just want Shiro to be happy.” 

“And you think you’re the cause of his happiness?” Kuron asks. 

Keith stops, staring at him. The question catches him by surprise. 

“I— I don’t know,” Keith admits. “But if I am, then I’m glad. Because he makes me happy, too.” 

Kuron’s mouth twitches. “He’s a persocom.” 

“Not to me,” Keith snaps back. “Shiro is Shiro. No matter who or what he is. Shiro is— everything.” 

That seems to silence Kuron. He stares at Keith, assessing him— searching, Keith thinks, for signs that he’s lying, that he’s only saying the words. But Keith steadies his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and glares at Kuron in turn. He’s not backing down. Kuron’s not going to see any lie in Keith’s gaze. 

Then, slowly, something eases in Kuron’s face. 

Quietly, he says, “It is painful to love a human.” He looks down, closing his eyes. “At any moment, they can leave us. They can hurt us. They can erase our memories. Use us. Anything at all. But… mostly, they just leave us alone again.” 

“I’m never leaving him,” Keith answers. 

“You can’t promise that.” 

“I’m promising it.” 

Kuron opens his eyes to regard him, something like amusement shining in his eyes. 

“Ah,” he says, at last. “Yes, I suppose I see what he sees in you.” 

Keith sucks in a sharp breath, chest puffing out. “Bring him back to me.” 

“I haven’t told you what Shiro is capable of,” Kuron says. 

“Will it put Shiro in danger if I don’t know?” Keith asks. 

Kuron tilts his head, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “It will not.”

“Then I don’t need you to tell me,” Keith decides. “Shiro can tell me if he wants to, when he wants to.”

That’s what pulls a smile across Kuron’s lips. It looks nothing like Shiro’s smile— a less gentle smile, but kind all the same. There’s a pained edge to it. Something unlike Shiro entirely. 

“Keith,” he says, and even that sounds different from the way Shiro says his name. 

“Yeah?” Keith asks, lips thin and jaw clenched. 

But Kuron smiles again and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “… Take care of my brother. He is the only thing left to me that matters.” 

Keith nods, although he hardly needs to promise someone else to know it’s something he’d always do. No matter what. 

“I will.”

With that, Kuron goes still and tips forward, the movement jerky and sudden. Keith darts forward instantly, catching Shiro’s body. His knees buckle again, but this time he sinks slowly down to the ground, bearing Shiro’s weight. 

He holds him in his arms, his grasp protective. He hovers above him, terrified that something’s gone wrong again, that he’s lost Shiro again— this time, forever. 

Allura lingers behind him, silent this entire time. Keith turns his head, sparing one glance up at her. He swallows. 

“Upstairs, in my apartment— find my phone and call Hunk or Pidge. Passcode is 1-0-2-3.” 

Allura nods and hurries up the stairs, leaving Keith and Shiro alone in the basement room. Keith’s not sure if there’s anything Hunk or Pidge can do, but it’s worth a try— and allows Keith a moment to just breathe, clutching tight to Shiro.

Slowly, though, Shiro stirs. His eyelids flutter, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. Keith holds his breath, waiting to see who it is that’s waking up.

“Shii…” he murmurs— and that’s answer enough.

“Shiro!” Keith cries out, undisguised in his relief. He drapes down against Shiro, clinging to him.

“Keith?” Shiro whispers in his ear, and then, automatically, his hands touch Keith’s back— an ear hug, an instinctive in his need to comfort Keith in turn. Keith gives a wobbly little gasp of a breath and then _clings_ to Shiro. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he croaks. 

“Shii…”

And then Shiro’s throwing his arms around Keith in turn. He presses his entire weight against Keith and sends him sprawling across the lab floor and it doesn’t matter. Shiro folds down against him and he’s a heavy weight and that doesn’t matter, either. 

“Keith!” Shiro says. “It’s you! You’re my someone just for me!” 

Keith doesn’t know what the words mean but Shiro sounds so delighted, so wondering, that Keith can only give a soft little laugh and cling to him. Keith can’t begin to explain the palpable relief that shudders through him. He goes boneless beneath Shiro, safe and sound. Shiro’s okay. Keith didn’t realize until now how much tension he’d been holding all day, waiting for Shiro to come back to him.

“Oh, Shiro,” Keith breathes, tucking his face against Shiro’s neck. 

Shiro makes a soft sound and then, slowly, hugs him tighter, sitting up a little and pulling Keith up with him. “Keith… you found me.” 

“Always,” Keith promises, voice wobbly. “Always, Shiro. _Always._” 

Keith isn’t sure how long he holds Shiro. Time seems to slow now that Shiro’s awake and in his arms— they just hold one another. Keith feels the burning need to cry but swallows it back, focusing instead on the steady weight of Shiro beneath his touch, held protectively in the circle of his arms. 

He pulls back only when he hears Allura coming back down the stairs again. Slowly, carefully, he helps Shiro back onto his feet. He keeps his arm slung around Shiro’s waist, though. 

Shiro seems just as content to keep holding him, too. He leans into Keith’s side, his arm wrapped around Keith. 

When they make their way back to the apartment, after a call to Pidge to stop by in a few hours, just to check over Shiro and make sure he’s okay, Keith feels like he’s been gone from their home for years. Hard to believe that it’s only been one day. 

The cranes still waver in the wind from the cracked window. The sun’s gone down in the time since they’ve been in the basement, the lights from the city casting strange shadows in their darkened apartment. Shiro peels himself from Keith’s side long enough to flip the lights on for them, crossing over to close the window and draw the blinds. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Keith asks, watching as he works. 

It’s the fifth time he’s asked in so many minutes. But, patiently, Shiro only nods. He pauses, fingers brushing the curtains before he turns to Keith with a smile. He steps close to Keith again and finds his hand. He squeezes it, then tangles their fingers together.

Like that, it almost feels like any other early evening—returning home from the bakery together. Any moment now, they’ll move to the table and Shiro will fold his cranes while Keith watches online videos about fixing driving-shafts and popular mechanic videos. Or, he’ll get up and make dinner for himself, Shiro’s eyes steady on his back. 

It’s different now. There’s a weight hanging between them, a deeper kind of knowledge. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. He waits until Keith turns towards him before Shiro says, quietly, “I have a… a brother.” 

“We met,” Keith confirms with a nod. “Kuron.”

Shiro shakes his head. “Kuro.”

“Kuro,” Keith corrects. Shiro nods this time, looking satisfied. “You— while you were sleeping, he woke up instead.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “He told me. He— he’s been hurt a lot, Keith.” 

Keith sighs and tugs on Shiro’s hand gently, leading him further into the room. He’s not sure where to sit. Unsure if they should sit. He settles for standing, reaching out carefully to take Shiro’s other hand. He looks up at him, hands clasped between them.

“You can tell me anything, Shiro,” Keith assures him.

Shiro considers, eyelashes dipping as he closes his eyes. “Kuro is… I think he’s gone back to sleep.” He looks at Keith again, something steady but mournful in his eyes. “He wants— there’s someone he wants to be with. I don’t know if I can help him, but I want to.” 

“Okay,” Keith agrees. 

Shiro’s expression turns thoughtful. “He— there’s still too much I don’t remember. I don’t know if I ever will. But… But, Keith.” 

“Yes?” 

“I remember you,” Shiro says. “I’ll always remember you.” 

He says it softly, casting Keith a shy look. Keith realizes that everything Shiro’s saying is ramping up to something else. Expectation hangs between them. Keith feels like all he’s doing is holding his breath— waiting. 

Keith’s hands start to shake and go sweaty. His heart races. Suddenly, there isn’t anything else in the world more important than whatever he says next. 

Kuro’s warnings still ring in his ears, a dire promise and some sort of resignation, as if Kuro expects Keith to ultimately fail. But this— _Shiro_— Keith knows he never has to doubt. 

Shiro is Shiro. And of course he’s in love with him. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, stepping closer. Shiro blinks at him. “You know what I’d wish for, if I had a thousand cranes?” 

Shiro frowns, his brow furrowing. “What, Keith?” 

Keith takes a deep breath, holding back a helpless smile, and murmurs, “I’d wish to be with you forever.” 

For half a second, he thinks maybe it’d be too scary to say, too difficult. But as he speaks, he knows it was always going to be the easiest thing in the world. Just as easy as falling in love with Shiro in the first place.

Shiro, for his part, seems shocked. His eyes widen in surprise, his mouth falling open. He stares at Keith, amazed. 

Keith smiles, helplessly. “I love you.” When Shiro doesn’t immediately respond, Keith repeats it, softer still, “I love you, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s entire face transforms after that— he lets out a soft sound of surprise and reaches for Keith. He wraps his arms tight around him and, at first, Keith thinks Shiro will hug him. Instead, though, he grabs tight to Keith and lifts him, spinning him around once. He doesn’t set him back down again, holding him up, his eyes wide and his lips tilting into a grin.

“Keith!” 

Keith can’t hold back his own surprised laugh, bracing his hands on Shiro’s arms, looking down at him with a helpless smile. His feet kick the air and his heart gives a pathetic somersault in his chest. 

Keith reaches for him, bracing his hands on his shoulders instead, his expression softening. “Shiro.” 

“Keith,” Shiro says, his voice soft. 

“Yeah?”

“Keith,” Shiro answers. “You love me.” 

Keith can’t help his small, hitching laugh. He thinks his eyes might be going glassy again. He blinks rapidly, wanting to keep Shiro in focus— wanting to memorize and remember, forever, the way Shiro looks in this moment. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I do.” 

“Keith.” He sounds wondering, his eyes widening, his smile rippling across his face into something wild, unrestrained, and _so_ happy. 

“Yeah, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s expression brightens— brighter than any star, any sun, anything shining and glowing. Nothing can compare to the way Shiro looks at him now. Nothing in the world can compare to Shiro, period. 

Keith thinks Shiro’s never looked happier than when he says, “I love you, too.” 

Keith laughs, his throat tight and his eyes overfull. “Yeah— yeah, Shiro.” 

“Shii!” Shiro chirps, unable to hold it back and drags Keith down towards him. “Keith!” 

Keith’s about to say something but once Keith’s close enough, Shiro leans in and ghosts his mouth against his. Keith blinks in surprise and then blushes, jerking back. 

“W— Shiro!” He clenches his hands tight on Shiro’s shoulders, staring down at him with his mouth flopped open. 

“That… is correct?” Shiro asks. He smiles, coy and sweet and so pleased with himself. “Keith… show me?” 

“_Shiro_,” Keith says, gasping, and then folds his arms around Shiro’s neck and bows to him. Shiro holds him up easily, smiling when Keith leans in to kiss him.

It’s chaste— Keith has no experience with something like this, Shiro even less so. But it’s still perfect. Keith feels like his heart is going to burst when he feels the first press of Shiro’s mouth to his. It’s soft. It’s sweet. He sighs out and melts in Shiro’s arms, pressing his mouth firmly to Shiro’s. 

When they draw back, Shiro only grins, his eyes shining. He sets Keith down, his hands folding so easily over Keith’s hips, holding him close. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, “I was _born _to be with you.” 

Keith hiccups, unable to fight back the tears this time. They well up in his eyes and Shiro cups his face, his thumbs swiping the tears away with the gentlest touch. It’s persistent, like a metronome, Shiro diligent in comforting Keith. 

His smile wobbly, Keith leans forward, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s. 

“Shii,” Shiro sighs, sounding impossibly happy, his nose brushing Keith’s. He closes his eyes, absorbing the feeling, leaning heavy against Keith. 

“Me too,” Keith whispers, and knows it’s true. “Me too, Shiro. I was born for you.” 

Shiro’s smile softens and he leans in again, catching Keith’s mouth in a gentle kiss. He’s getting the hang of it, Keith thinks, sighing as Shiro’s hand slips into his hair, tangling his fingers up and cradling the back of Keith’s head, like he’s precious. 

“Should we finish your cranes?” Keith murmurs when they part, Keith’s tongue darting out against Shiro’s bottom lip and pressing in close, speaking the words into Shiro’s mouth. He doesn’t want to pull away just yet, doesn’t want to be anywhere but close to Shiro. 

“Shii…” Shiro’s smile grows and he shakes his head, just barely, and kisses Keith again. “No, Keith,” he murmurs, mouth brushing over Keith’s. “My wish was granted.” 

He punctuates the words by curling his arms around Keith. He hugs Keith tight enough that the air wheezes out of Keith in a hushed breath. Shiro cuddles up to him, just as he always does, clinging to Keith with his face tucked up against his neck. 

It’s perfect. Keith, of course, hugs him back, nuzzling into his hair. 

“Yeah,” Keith laughs, voice wobbly. “Yeah, Shiro, me too.”

He’s never going to let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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>   * Short comments
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> This author replies to comments.
> 
> This is the end of the main story for the Chobits AU! Thank you so much for reading along over these last months. I'm hoping that I might be able to do some smaller writings when I have the chance (think "fill in the blanks" sort of stories that flesh out the time between the installments). So if there's anything left you'd like to see for Chobits AU, feel free to let me know in your comment! ♥
> 
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